


Winter without Snow

by wolf_noita03



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, in the north there is never a winter without snow, ned stark and catyln are still dead, the seasons do not last as long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolf_noita03/pseuds/wolf_noita03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well there you have it! my first ever completed work!lol! hope you all enjoyed it soory for those of you waiting on my other fics,  but now that i have completed this i can go back to giving them my attentions. sorry this one i had in my head for a while!hope you enjoyed it! plz feel free to leave kudos, comments plus consrtuctive feedback plz! :)thankyou!</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**_“Our hearts are like that of a blue winters rose Arya. If we do not nourish it with love, and happiness it will begin to wilt, and one by one the petals will fall away,  till nothing of the flower remains….and we are left with only a hallow space….”_ **

 

The deep voice of Ned Stark resounds in her head, as Arya sits in front of her mirror, curiously looking upon the face of the stranger that was reflected back at her. The strangers face and posture were completely still as if she was not a living, breathing being but a statue, carved out of white stone. Was this stranger even real? Her skin to gaze upon was pale even under the luminous reflection of the sun behind her. Big deep grey eyes stared questioningly back at her; she notices that they seem to sparkle less of late. The strangers full pink soft lips bore no trace of a smile, and short cropped brown mousy hair, which usually rested upon her head in a fray of tangles, had long been tucked beneath the heavy itchy wig that had now been placed instead. The hair of the wig was long and combed back into an intricate braid. A few loose strands framed her face. The purpose of the wig was to make her look more lady like, _or so they had told her_. Though Arya herself did not care whether she looked like a lady or not. Appearances never mattered to her; all that mattered was how she looked in _his_ eyes. And in _his_ eyes she was the most beautiful being alive; which was more than enough for _her_.

The dress she wore was the colour of soft grey and made from the finest silk, and laced with the most beautiful embroidery she had ever lay eyes upon; a gift from The house of Black and White. The material itself was light, and clung to her body like a mothers embrace, though the only feeling it made her feel was uncomfortable.  It had been fastened that tightly at the back, Arya wondered how any one was meant to breathe let alone walk init. It was not the first time she had worn the dress, but today it felt heavier, her skin felt burdened under the weight of the material. It itched at her skin and made her feel as if there were a thousand tiny ants crawling up and down her body. She had wanted nothing more than to tear the damned thing off from her skin, but today was not the day to behave like an over indulged princess. Though anyone who knew her would know she was far from over indulged.

The warm summer breeze danced around her room, as her heart beated heavily inside her chest.  She was alone in her chambers. Nymeria had refused to come to her, choosing to stay well away though she had tried to call her to her side several times. It had made Arya sad to think that her own dire wolf chose to stay away. Of all the days, when she needed her most by her side, Nymeria refused to come. Speaking volumes of her own self not wanting to have anything to do with today. She felt trapped and helpless. Like she had no control over what was happening; something she seldom felt.

 It would not be long till she would be called upon. The ladies that had attended to her had long left, but their words remained with her. Like a knife twisting in the bowels of her stomach. They had laughed and smiled so innocently, telling her that she did not look anything like a bride of the summer but instead a bride of winter _. ‘A true queen of winter’ they had called her_. Upon her head should rest a crown of snowflakes each as individual and as unique as her. They had said it to be kind yet still their words brought a pain that felt like a thousand needles stabbing mercilessly into her skin. For Arya this statement alone could not be more true. She _was_ a queen of winter. She would always be _his_ queen of winter. It did not matter whose crown or cloak she wore. His had already been placed upon her, and the gods had bared witness.

Arya closes her eyelids; no longer wanting to see the lady that was reflected back at her.  Instead she concentrates on the beating of her heart. Listening to the continuous da-dum, da-dum, it made. This always calmed her, reassured her that she was still alive, breathing and well. Slowly Arya inhales deeply, then exhales a second later, repeating this silent mantra until she starts to feel her mind transcending through the barriers of time. Slowly she feels her body relaxing so much so that she begins to free herself away from the compounds of her human self, and delve deeper into the mind of her wolf.

_Her nose was close to the ground, the daylight was bright, and the sun felt unwelcomingly hot on her skin. It was an unusually strange hot day especially in the north. She was restless, and so was her pack. They had hunted throughout the night and had plenty to eat, but now the sun was up, and it seemed to punish them for the spoils of the night; as if they had over indulged. She stalks over to a huge white tree, its leaves red like the eyes of her silent mate. He was lost to her now; gone with his human. Wolves mated for life, so it was unnatural for her to be without him.  Often in the night, she would stalk off somewhere leaving her pack, and her human, to find a high peak where she could sing to the great pale circle in the darkened sky; hoping that the winds would carry her song to her mate, and return him to her._

_Nymeria sat for quite some time just smelling and listening. The sounds of the forest around her were alive but it was the commotion of where her human lived that kept interrupting her. She could feel her human inside her, just as incomplete as she; both yearning for their mates._

_It was her nostrils that had picked up the scent before her ears could hear the sound of hooves on hard floor. It was her mate’s human. But not far was her mate.  His scent was carried by the winds, and it grew stronger and stronger until she knew he was not far away. Her heart raced as she leaped to meet him; to find him. The distance apart had been far too long this time._ _She could feel her pack behind her but one growl and they all stayed put……._

Arya could smell him, and her body stirred in its skin, as if she was only now beginning to feel alive. She could feel goose pimples on her arms and neck, and felt the all too familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach. Her own heart pounded harder and faster inside her chest. He was here. Finally. He had come.

Opening her eyelids, she looks down to realise that she had been holding her hands tightly, as if in a prayer. Perhaps she was. Her own silent prayer that she had said every night without fail. For him to return to her. Just as Nymeria had sang to the moon she had prayed to the gods old and new for his return. And now he was here. At last. Her eyes wanting nothing more than to rest their weary gaze upon his face.

A knock on the door breaks her thoughts, and she turns her gaze towards the figure that now stood in her doorway.  His own pale grey eyes searched her face, and a smile of acknowledgment crosses his familiar face. His frame was hidden beneath a light black fur cloak, and made a striking comparison to his milky white skin; _black was always his colour she thinks to herself,_ as her heart swells. Arya remains seated for a second or two watching him come in.

Jon was making his way awkwardly into her room, the frown upon his face asking if he was welcome. She smiles to reassure him though on her part makes no attempt to run to him. Not yet. She wanted to gaze upon him a few moments longer.  For far too long her eyes wanted nothing more than to rest their eyes once again upon him, and now that he was here, she never wanted to stop looking at him. Though as he came closer she took silent notice of how tired he looked. His skin was paler then she had first thought it to be, and he had lost weight, making his face look longer. Had he been sick and she had not known? Perhaps that is why he had not written to her? Her heart sank at the thought of him being ill, and her being unable to care for him. Her gaze fell to his jaw; he had not shaved. She was glad. She liked the thick black dusting of stubble that graced his jaw. She moved her eyes back to his own. His eyes did not shine, just like her own; they had lost their reason to shine. It seemed the years apart had been just as unkind to her as they had to him. That made her sad. She never wanted him to be burdened by the grief of their past.

She noticed as he moved, that under his cloak he wore armour as black as the winters of old that legends had spoken of. Upon his chest was a dire wolf with red rubies for its eyes that glimmered as the light of the morning sun caught it. Though next to it also was a dragon with red rubies also for its eyes. The Stark and Targaryean part of him; of fire and ice.  People everywhere call him the winged wolf, but to her he was just Jon. _Her Jon._

“Arya?” he asks, and before he could say any more Arya speaks.

“Jon! You made it”, leaping off the chair, as it fell to the floor Arya rushes towards him closing the distance with her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her chest pressed against his own, whilst his arms wrapped tightly around her own waist. Reluctantly she noticed but she did not care, not now. She held no regard for his display of awkwardness; because now he was here with her. She felt his warm breathe on her neck and she bit her lip before her sigh of arousal could make it out into the open. The familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach began once again, and Arya wondered if it would ever stop. Though she never wanted to find out.

“I was afraid you would not arrive and I would miss seeing you.” She stated, as her breathe tingled his neck, but she refused to let go as he shifted uncomfortably. Arya would be selfish and ignore his uncomfortableness. Because after today there would be no more. After today there would be no snow in her life. **She would be a** **Winter without Snow; an unnatural sight.**

“Sansa was unsure if you had received the raven. We waited for a reply but none came so I sent one each day, every day, till you sent word, but no word of reply came…..” she spoke quickly as if she was giving him instructions, but Jon listened. Letting her voice, and her warm breath on his neck, breathe life into him. He held her tighter, willing her to continue, because she was Arya and he was Jon and this is how they were. “I had even sent one today….” she spoke matter of factually, but her voice trailed off. They both knew she was babbling. Nerves they would both put it down to. Yet she did not care. She wanted him to know, _needed_ him to know how much she had prayed to lay eyes upon him once again.

She holds him closer, her arms wrapped around his neck tight; she did not want to let him go. But he did not mind, not truly, the uncomfortableness he felt earlier began slipping away. He held her tighter, as if it was the last time. They both knew that perhaps it was. After today there would be no winter in his life. **_And Snow did not exist without Winter._**

Seconds begin to pass then she pulls away reluctantly but not until he begins to pull away first whispering “Arya.....” was it a question he was asking, or was it confirmation that she was real, as he was real. A part of her does not want to reply whatever the context was because she did not have the strength to hear it; nor the strength to re-open old wounds.

Jon takes a step back and Arya mirrors him at the exact moment. The empty space between them feels cold and lonely; as if it should not exist. It was unnatural after all. Two halves of the same being, existing apart……

“You look beautiful Arya” he says, whilst taking her in. Arya brings her eyes up to him shyly, as if it was the first time he had ever paid her a compliment. _Perhaps he was just being polite_ a tiny voice said inside her head, and for a moment she was afraid. But then she looked in his eyes and saw the truth in his words. To him, she really was beautiful.

Jon caught the worry in her eyes. Perhaps she thought he was lying to her? _Surely she would know him better than that,_ he thought. Jon always knew she would grow more beautiful than any other woman he would ever lay eyes upon. A true northern beauty. But she was so much more than that. She was wild, and passionate. Cold, and dangerous. She was as honourable as her father, yet as vengeful as her mother. She was quick and witty, and as charming as any royal princess could be, though to underestimate her would be foolish. She had a look of innocence, but he knew the trained assassin that lurked beneath her skin. Her laughter played a melody which only his heart could beat to.

A piece of his own heart broke away as he realised that today would be perhaps the last time he would lay eyes upon her. That after today there was no going back, and for a split second he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them again and kiss her. To tell her how much he still loved her, and needed her, but he was a coward. He had caused her so much pain; had betrayed her; that it was selfish of him to even be here in front of her. Yet he could not have let her go, without seeing her one last time. His heart would not let him be at peace without seeing her. Though now he was here, there was only one question that burnt in his mind. **_How was Snow to exist without Winter?_**

“Can you believe it Jon, that they are making me wear a dress? A dress for goodness sake” she exclaims. She walks back another few paces giving him space, but turning back to him, as her eyes do not leave his face as she continues with her drivel. They both now its drivel. She is trying to fill the void that has come between them. Though instead of facing their past and talking about it, they would just both go along with this game. They would put it down to nerves again.

“Jon... Look at me! How the seven hells am I supposed to walk in this?” Arya points to the soft grey coloured gown that the hand maidens had helped her put on this morning, as if he had not seen it. She flaps her arms up, in a gesture to make him smile. But it’s failed. His face still moulded to the seriousness. This was his armour. She knew. So Arya continues to be the only way she knows how to be with him. _Because going back is not an option, and breaking apart is unnatural._

“And on top of that I have to wear this wig because Sansa says my hair is too unruly and unlady like. Hair being unlady like? Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?” She puts one hand absentmindly down to her stomach; trying to smooth her dress which had no wrinkle in it. Perhaps _she_ was really nervous. Arya sees Jon’s eyes follow the movement. She pulls her hand away quickly. Not wanting him to think about it, not now. Neither wanted to think of it because he was here. That was all that mattered. They were both here. The past was the past.

Jon stares at her intently. He was always quiet _even_ with her, but not so much so as he was being now with her. They were behaving like strangers who had met for the first time. No. Jon was the one behaving like a stranger, Arya thought to herself. _She_ was just trying to be Arya. The Arya he knew and had once loved; still loved she hoped.

He was so quiet now, that Arya would have given anything to make him smile. Which made her even more sad, because she would never be the one to make him smile. He was pulling away and this time she would have to do so too. She gulped hard and moves back to the mirror. Not wanting his eyes to see but knowing he already knows. The emptiness she feels is becoming hard to bare. **_For winter is incomplete without snow._**

“Can you believe it Jon that I am to be married today? If mother and father were here, they would be so proud. I could imagine mother now, finally happy to see me in a dress. She’d tut about my hair too” she says smiling warily looking at Jons’ reflection in the mirror. He looked so tired, but it was his eyes that caught her gaze. Those deep grey eyes, into which she would have been happy to melt in, looked so sad. A piece of her heart breaks away from her, because she had done that to him. She had made him sad.

He is so still that she wonders whether this is nothing but a dream; perhaps another fevered dream. She had, had so many of them after the incident. The Maester wondered which would win. Her or death. But she was strong. Against the odds she survived. Her face is drawn with worry until he finally speaks.

“Arya?” he says her name so softly, as if it had been carried by the gentle breeze itself, and another piece of her heart breaks away from her.

Turning around and smiling at him she begins to speak again. “Gods I hope I do not fall or say something wrong, everyone will be watching. Sansa would be absolutely _mortified._ She will never let me live it down if I fall. Jon you would be _incredibly horrified_ to learn that she has had me practising for months on how to walk in this stupid dress” Arya says only too dramatically, whilst rolling her eyes. She looks at him, to catch a smile creep upon his face. _Jons smile._ Another piece of her heart breaks away from her. It had been the first time in a long time since he had smiled like that for her... a long time, before.....

“And you did not try to stab her for it?” He chuckles and she smiles. The sound of his laughter was better than any music she had ever heard played. Another piece of her heart breaks away from her.

“No apparently stabbing one’s own sister is highly frowned upon. Though i _did_ sneak into the kitchens and eat _all_ her lemon cakes one time when she was being incredibly difficult......” he raised an eyebrow and laughed and her own body responded with a longing. As if his laughter alone had the power to bring her alive.

“All of them? How many were there?” Raising his eyebrows questioningly whilst still chuckling. Perhaps thinking of the time they had both snuck down and eaten the left over lemon cakes that Sansa had saved for the morning after her name day.

“Ermmm fifteen I think”, she replied scrunching her face up. Jon laughs even more. He seemed to have finally relaxed. She watches him from the mirror, before turning towards him again.

“I am surprised Sansa did not kill you” he says chuckling.

“Oh goodness she _almost_ did, until I reminded her that if she killed me, then there would be no wedding and all her hard work of teaching me how to walk in the bloody dress would go to waste” she said laughing as Jon laughed with her.

“Very clever little cousin”, he says, wanting nothing more than to reach out to her and ruffle her hair, so that she could whack his arm away.

Aryas heart skipped as he called her little cousin. She waited for a second to see if he would close the distance and ruffle her hair so that she could whack his arm away and call him stupid, though it was a fools’ hope. For he remained where he was, and so she did the same.

“Though I am surprised you can still fit into your dress after eating all those cakes,” he says, shaking his head whilst laughing. Biting her lip, she rests both her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes at him.

“It is not funny Jon it backfired on me. I was ill for days.” She said frowning up at him, and pouting more childishly at him. He laughed even more. “Sansa said it was all my fault, and that we would have to double my practise walking to make up for the lost days I had spent in bed recovering” she says making another face.

She watched as Jon just laughed, tilting his head back. _This was her Jon_. He was being her Jon again. Perhaps not all was lost. Perhaps there was still hope for them, however miniscule.

“Stupid if you were there I would not have had to eat so many and become ill, another mistake you could have saved me from making Jon” and just like that the words were out before she could take them back. She heard the only words that he would have heard, ‘ _you could have saved us Jon’_ she had said the wrong thing. His smile froze on his face and Arya immediately bit her lip. Slowly the smile across his face began to fade, just as his laughter subsided. His face was serious once again.

“Jon I….” she begins but Ghost comes in quietly nudging her hand with his head, as he sits down before her. His red eyes watching her cool grey ones. She embraces him burying her face deep in his white coat.

“I thought you had forgotten me too dear friend”, she says, and he stays still letting her hold onto him. Jon watches silently. Ghost could give Arya what she needed. Quietly warging into him, he nuzzles her neck taking in her scent. His heart pounded deep in his chest, as Ghost remained there. He listens to the unsteady beat of her heart. That same heart he would listen to whilst she slept in his arms, so long ago. There are other sounds he can hear but he pays no heed to them. For now he was just with her the only way he could be. The only way there worlds could exist on the same plane.

A few seconds pass and he feels her moving from him. He feels his strength beginning to weaken. It was an unnatural feeling, as he felt the reluctant tug in his heart. Jon wargs out of Ghost as quickly as possible, scared he may have been caught. She looks at him with a look of confusion on her face, and for a moment he wonders if she knew, but he clears his throat and smiles weakly at her. It was nerves. That is what they would put it down to.

Standing back up, she straightens her dress, and scratches Ghost by the ear. The dire wolf watches the two humans that stood before him silently.

It is his own human which breaks the silence.

“I thought Nymeria would follow you in Ghost. Where is she?” he asks looking at Ghost then at Arya.

“She is refusing to come near the castle”, she says quietly looking at Ghost. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes already, and she did not want Jon to see. At the mention of his mate Ghost cocks his head to one side.

“I am sure she will be there when you make your way out Arya, and if not Ghost will drag her out to you”, Jon says smiling, though knowing that she was refusing to look at him because her eyes had filled up. Jon could tell by the way her voice faltered at her words.

“Perhaps” she says still looking at Ghost. Ghost stares at the two of them more intently. Again it was his human who spoke.

“It is a beautiful day for your wedding Arya, the sun shines bright. A good sign that the old gods look down upon you, and smile”, the other human smiles, but she does not hear the sadness that is laced in _his_ human’s voice when he speaks. Nor can she feel the heaviness of his heart. Only the white wolf that sits between them can, and silently he whines for the pain of his human, and his mates human.

“What is the matter Arya?” he asks and she looks up at him. Arya wants to tell him everything. That this whole wedding was wrong, that she still loves him, and had never stopped, and that if he would ask it of her she would break the alliance now. But she does no such thing, choosing instead to bite her tongue.

So instead she answers “I am scared Jon. What if I say something stupid, or fall?” She asks quietly. Before Jon can reply she adds “everyone will laugh at me” she says in a tiny whisper. Jons’ heart becomes more heavier. Growing up Arya had always been ridiculed for the way she looked and behaved, and it was always Jon that she would run to. Jon who would pick her back up, and brush her tears away. He would make her smile, and hold her close. As he stares in those grey eyes, he knows the question she is really asking him, understanding the longing in those sad eyes of hers, as they stare back at him.

The silent way Jon stares at her Arya wonders if he understood her meaning. Of what she was really asking him. ‘Please do not laugh at me if I fall, be there instead to hold me up, be at my side Jon? Please do not let me go so easily.”

“I will not laugh at you because you will not fall. You are Arya Stark, and she is not afraid of anything. Especially not walking towards the gods tree” he says instead.

Another piece of her heart breaks away from her. He understood her question, but refused to be by her side.

She smiles. It was weak they both knew it.

“How long will you stay...?” she asks, changing the subject but not really wanting him to speak the answer though knowing it before he speaks.

“Until the ceremony...... I… there are other duties” he says awkwardly, though his demeanour stays the same not revealing any such trait. But she knew him inside out. There was no other duty. _The only duty left was to watch her go_.

Arya smiles to herself. So she had become a duty? Another piece of her heart breaks away. She watches his cool grey eyes; he was thinking again.

Arya hated that. He was thinking about what had happened. Why could he not stop?

He wasn’t even going to stay for the festivities afterwards. It hurt her to realise how much of himself he was keeping away from her. No because of her. Another piece breaks away.

“Jon I......” she begins to say, but then chooses to say instead “well I am glad you have honoured me enough to grace me with your presence your grace” it was cold, but he was more colder. Arya managed another smile, though it was more stronger then the last. She would be strong. Would not show him how much of her needed him for her to feel complete. For deep down they both knew that winter was incomplete without snow. Another piece of her heart breaks away from her.

As they stand in the silence of the room, his words come back to haunt her.... _“He will make you happy if you let him Arya, I know he will so let him please, for me.......” and she wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to yell at him for being so stupid; for not being able to see the love she bore for him, that for her nothing had changed, but she did not. She kept silent… it was her silence that tore them apart._ She knows it now. This truth alone broke another piece of her heart away.

The growing silence in the room was eyrie. They were never this silent with one another. Never this far apart. Yet after today they would part even further.... there would be no turning back. She would start a new life with Gendry and Jon would return to his old.....

Another piece of her heart breaks away at the thought of him..... Alone. She nervously places a hand on her brow trying to brush an invisible strand away. She feels him close to her and she looks up. For a moment their eyes dance in the glow of the others and they are finally whole again. How they should have always been.

“Arya” he takes both her hands in his. She notes Jon’s hands are rough and callous; hers are not so anymore. She can feel the scars on his hands and traces imaginary fingers over them. Whilst in her mind her hands now move more freely under his shirt to the scars that he hides. Gently tracing them slowly one by one. “Arya” he says again and her thoughts are broken like her heart....

“Yes?” She holds her breathe for a tiny glimmer of hope.

“I have to go.......I just came to wish you good luck, not that you would be needing it” He smiles yet she cannot bring herself to smile back at him this time. There was a coldness in the room now, the warmth had left and not even the summer heat could bring it back.

“Goodbye Jon Snow” she whispers, and his own face creases with pain as if he had been struck. She had used his name. His full name. Not Targaryean nor Stark but Snow. She was the Queen of Winter and he was the King of Snow, and together they were complete. It was the only name she called him by. He wanted to grab her hair and kiss her on her lips. To bury his tongue deep inside her mouth, only coming up for air when they both needed to. By the gods if she were to say she would break the alliance there would be nothing to stop him from taking her as his own. He would take her here in this room until she was screaming his name with pleasure, and he would not care who heard.

But instead he clears his throat and replies “goodbye Arya Stark.”

Those words seemed so final, it made Arya feel a chill creeping inside, as he said them. Like death itself. Jon could not help but wonder if the acute sharp pain he was feeling in his heart was death finally claiming him? **_For Snow could not exist without Winter, and the days of his winter have finally drawn to an end._**

Arya looked upon Jons face and wondered. Was anything ever truly final? Only death.... everything else could continue could it not? Just because something ended did not mean it died. They have not died.

As Jon turned to leave she closed her eyes, “my feelings for you are just as strong as they were before Jon, my faith and love in you never faltered I was just hurt and angry because it was my choice you had taken away from me. Which you are still taking away from me”.

She hears the door close and opens her eyes wishing he stayed but sees the room empty. She breaks down in a heap on the floor as she lets the tears fall. She clung to her stomach relieving the same aching emptiness she had felt all those years ago.

The final piece of her heart broke away from her; leaving instead nothing but an empty hole in her chest……………………

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jon closes the door behind him, with Ghost at his side. He can hear her crying, and he wants nothing more than to open back the door, and take her in his arms. To kiss each tear, to kiss her lips, to hold her in his arms and feel her body melt into his. But he could not. Would not.

He would not allow her to feel any more sorrow then he had brought upon her. Coming here was the last thing he would do. After today, there would be no turning back.

Making his way down to the great hall, he caught a glimpse of his cousin Sansa, and her own dire wolf Lady. She looked so much like her mother that for a moment Jon had to stop to make sure he was not seeing her ghost.

“Jon, you are here at last. Dear cousin we were worried that you had not received any of our ravens. Come, sit, when did you arrive Jon?” she asks; her blue eyes carrying nothing but warmth. Growing up the two cousins had rarely spoken to one another, but since the passing of both Ned and Lady Stark, they had become much closer. Taking comfort in each other’s sorrow. She was much more easier to talk to, and actively seeked him out to talk to him. It was a strangeness that Jon could not help but think that perhaps if Ned and Cateyln had not passed that they would never have become so close.

“I arrived, just a few minutes ago dear cousin. How are you all fairing? I am sorry I had not replied to the ravens, I have been kept busy” he says awkwardly. He did not want to lie, but telling the truth would only dampen everyone’s spirits, and that was not what he had come for.

“That is alright Jon. I am just glad that you are here. We _all_ are.” She says putting an emphasis on all. Arya was not the only one who Jon had betrayed. At one time both Robb and Jon were as close as brothers could be, but since the incident with Arya, Robb had never truly found it in his heart to forgive Jon for breaking his little sister’s heart. And Jon on his part did not blame him. He hated himself more than any of the Starks could truly hate him.

“Have you gone to see her yet Jon?” Sansa asks, as tentatively as only she can.

“Yes. She is fine….we are fine” he repeats as if trying to convince himself rather than Sansa. Not wanting to pry anymore, they talked about the weather, the castle, where the remaining Stark children were. Every now and then Sansa would glance at Jon, taking in his sunken face, his pale eyes, his much more quiet demeanour. Even being physically miles apart both Arya and Jon had not stopped mirroring one another. They were both as lost as each other, and her heart sank.

“Brother! Finally you have made it, I knew you would come” came Brans cheery voice. He was followed by Rickon, Meera and Jojen. Brans pace quickened as he rushed to embrace his brother. No matter what people said to Bran, he would always regard Jon as his brother. He was one of them, through and through.

“Bran, Rickon, Jojen, Meera” Jon embraced each one, with a warm hug. He had missed them all. Howland Reeds children had become like his own brother and sister, and Rickon grew to look just like Robb, only taller. The dire wolves followed. Chasing and playing with one another like they did when they were pups. Though Ghost watched silently.

Robb and Myrcella were the last to come into the great hall, followed by the twins, and Grey wind. Myrcella embraced him warmly. “Good of you to finally come good brother”, she says and smiles at him; Jon could not believe how much Myrcella looked like her lady mother but held all the grace and warmth as Sansa. Jon shook Robb’s hand, “Jon” came Robb’s voice as he shook Jon’s hand. “Robb”, Jon replied nodding his head. The tension between the two was heavy but thankfully cut short by the twins’ excitement of seeing their uncle Jon. The twins gave a flying leap up into Jon’s arms, and he catches them both embracing them, and twirling them around. Their laughter filled the busy halls.

“Uncle Jon, Uncle Jon did you bring your dragon?” asked Benjen. He was the youngest of the twins, born a few seconds after his older brother Eddard.

“My dragon?” Jon asked but was cut short by Eddard.

“Don’t be silly, Benjen, Uncle Jon cannot bring a dragon to a wedding. We do not have enough food, nor a room big enough”, replied Eddard as a matter of factly. Jon smiled at the two, as Benjen pouted and said “oh”. Jon sat them down on top of the table and ruffled both their hair.

“And which dragon would you have had me bring down, little ones?” he asked turning his head from one to the other.

“Vi….Vis….i…onion!” says Benjen shouting proudly, puffing his chest out.

“Not onion, Benjen… Viserion, but I would like Drogon” Eddard says. His eyes gleaming at Jon.

“Oh Drogon hey? Well he belongs to my dear aunt, and between you and me he is very grumpy” Jon says smiling.

“Well then how about Rhegral?” asks Benjen.

“Not Rhegral, but Rhaegal” says Eddard shaking his head, and rolling his eyes.

“Rhaegal? Really? I am not sure how Rhaegal would take to the North little ones, plus he is very particular on who he lets ride him. Sometimes he won’t even let me ride him, unless of course I bring him a snack”, he says winking.

“But aunty Arya says you always ride Rhaegal, and that he had not minded her sitting on him with you, when she went to stay with you. She said she had ridden him lots of times.” says Eddard. Pouting now.

Before Jon could reply it was Myrcella who spoke. “That is enough you boys, if Uncle Jon said he cannot bring a dragon down then that is it. Besides your uncle Jon is here, and he is far better than any fire breathing dragons” she says smilingly. “Now get down both of you and let your uncle Jon rest.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh but mother…..” came the boys voice in unison, as Jon put them back down gently.

“No buts’ boys. Listen to your mother, go off and play now, but not on Grey winds back…!” Robb says as the boys start to walk out from the hall. Robb makes his way to the kitchens as Myrcella follows.

Jon watches both the boys go out the hall, only to see them sticking their heads back in to the doorway to make sure that their parents had indeed left the great hall, before entering back again. This time they ran to Jon whole heartedly, as he kneels down for them to crash into his chest, causing him to tumble momentarily on the floor. The rest of the Stark children including the Reeds laughed warmly, at the show of affection. “We are so glad you are back Uncle Jon” said Eddard, with Benjen nodding in agreement. “Perhaps now aunty Arya will smile again” Benjen said embracing Jon. “Yes she does not smile much anymore, or play with us that much, but now that you are here she will now,” said Eddard looking happily up at Jon.

Jon sensed the laughter quieten, and felt the others depart, as he was hugged by his nephews.

“That’s enough you two, now go play” Sansa says firmly but with kindness laced in each word.

Another piece of his heart broke away. He embraced the boys back, and then they ran out of the hall laughing.

“There children Jon, they meant no harm by it” came Sansas’ voice as she gently places a hand upon his shoulder. He clenches his jaw, unsure of how to respond. _‘Perhaps now aunty Arya will smile again’_ resonated in his ears.

“Forgive me Sansa I have to go” he says, and does not wait for Sansa to reply. Jon walks as quickly as he could, out of the great hall. ‘ _Perhaps now aunty Arya will smile again’_ came Benjens’ sweet little voice. What had he done? Jon should never have come back to Winterfell. It had been a mistake. All a mistake. He could feel Ghost behind his heels, and without looking where he was going, he just continued to walk. Hearing nothing but feeling the soft earth that lay beneath him.

Jon did not realise where he was going until he reached a familiar clearing. Right in front of him stood a great big white tree which bore a face carved into it. The leaves on the tree burnt a bright red. As red as Ghosts’ eyes. He was in the gods wood, and standing in front of him was the Weirwood tree that Lord Eddard Stark used to sit beneath, either cleaning his blade, or to clear his own thoughts.

Jon found himself sitting at the exact spot he would usually find his uncle sitting in, rubbing his hands over his face. It will not be long till people would be gathered here. Gendry and Arya will stand before the tree and exchange vows. The final part being Gendry will give Arya his cloak. Another piece of his heart broke away from him. In another time he had placed his own cloak upon Aryas’ shoulders, right in front of this very tree. What would the old gods think now?

“I thought I would find you here brother”, as Jon looked up he saw the cheery face of Bran walking towards him. Summer running to sit next to Ghost under the Weir wood tree.

“It is hard to believe that in less than two hours this place will bare witness to another testament of love; perhaps the most beautiful testament there is”, Bran says as he takes in the surrounding woods, his eyes finally resting upon the tall Weir wood that stood proudly behind them. Its eyes watched so much, and had seen so much. Bran knew.

Jon looks up mustering a smile for Bran. He would not let the spirit of his sadness touch upon this place. He would not burden Bran either. The past was in the past, it was better kept there.

“It will, and so shall we all”, Jon says as he looks at Ghost. He turns to Bran then asks “so you and Meera? Hey?” he says nudging his little brother.

“Me and Meera are just friends. For now anyway” he says smiling, and Jon notices the hints of a blush upon his brothers face. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head from side to side. Reaching out and ruffling Brans hair.

Bran whacks his arm out the way, whilst ducking real quick. “Hey! Don’t mess my hair, I have to look good, I am the brides brother you know” he says grinning.

“Ohh really? Since when did you start caring about how you look” he asks.

“Erm, since Meera….” He trails off blushing harder than before. Jon laughs more, and Bran joins in.

“I am glad you have found someone Bran, and thank goodness you have stopped climbing walls. You know my heart would stop beating every time I saw you climb a wall” Jon says.

“Well after the fall, and the scare of never being able to walk, well that was it. If it had not been for Meera and Jojens’ assurance that I would walk again, I would have given up on myself a long time ago” he says more solemnly. Jon recalled the moment he had heard that Bran had fallen from the broken tower at Winterfell. It had been a month since both Ned and Catelyns passing, and Bran would often climb the tower. No one argued for it was the only way Bran found any peace. Where he did not have to think of his parents untimely death. It had been a very blustery day, and the rain pounded the earth mercilessly. Bran had sneaked out of the castle to climb the broken tower. Had it not been for Summers’ continues howling, Bran may not have been found till much later. The injuries he sustained could have been much more serious.

Bran had laid in a deep sleep for a week, the Maester unsure whether he would make it. It was the third day into his sleep when the Reeds children had arrived, sending their condolences for the deaths over Ned and Catelynn. Jojen remained ever so hopeful. Kept saying to look to the day of the first full moon of the month. It was eyrie, but no one gave up hope. And like Jojen had said at the first full moon of the month and Bran opened his eyes. It was a miracle. Jon had never been so relieved. Since then the Reeds have stayed at Winterfell. And the castle was once again filled with joy. Jon had to leave two moons later, to return to kings landing for his aunt, and Arya had decided to join him, to everyone’s surprise apart from Brans. Jon had a strange feeling that Bran had always known that Arya would follow him. No matter what or where he went.

Though none of the children spoke of what went on while Jon and Arya stayed at kings landing , Jon knew that they all knew, the going ons’ of both he and Arya.

“After the fall I used to come here a lot. There is a peace here that is beyond the realm of men, a power of sorts” he says as Jon looks at his brother. When Bran had woken he spoke of dreams and visions. Things that had happened and had yet to happen. None of them had believed him, until Myrcella gave birth to twin boys, just like Bran had said. But Jon had been around wildlings who spoke of green seers, and old gods, wargs, and magic, to believe that perhaps Bran had been gifted with the sight. Jojen Reed certainly had, but as he often proclaimed his vision only saw so far, whereas Brans went further and further; he had abilities like the old gods, to reach down to the roots and pull out the very past and future of our lives. That thought had frightened and worried him. Bran was far too young to be carrying the world on his shoulders. Yet looking at Bran and taking in his cheery disposition, perhaps it was working out for him.

“So little brother, tell me what do you see”, Jon requested jokingly.

Bran turns to look at his brother sitting next to him, and studies his ever sorrowful face, as he was smiling back at him. Yet there was so much pain in Jons’ eyes, even though he tried his best to hide it from them all. Bran knew. Sighing he replies “I see a lone wolf whose heart is full of sorrow, slowly it is breaking piece by piece, yet he hides his sorrow amongst many, finally running to answer the call of his mate” and Jons shifts uneasily, but then both of them begin to laugh.

A howl from afar breaks the laughter as Ghost runs off. “You were right” Jon says.

“Hmm. Nymeria is staying away” Bran declares. “But you already know that” he says, not really looking at Jon.

“I do. Arya mentioned it, when I went to see her”, Jon says quietly. “She thinks Nymeria is angry with her I think but ……”

“She is, well partly” Bran replies not waiting for Jon to finish. “She is a wolf, a wolf that has already chosen her mate, but is being kept away from him” he says.

“But Ghost is free to go to where…..”

“Yes but he will not leave your side, for you are his human, just as Nymeria will not leave Arya for she is her human. Once we have bonded with our wolves Jon, it is unnatural for us to break it. Just as two wolves that have mated will mate for life, until their deaths, it is unnatural for them to be apart,” he says. Bran looks at Jon’s confused face and says “hmm think of it this way. A winter without snow has never happened here in the North Jon, because it is unnatural. It goes against nature. Snow and Winter arrive together and leave together. One cannot exist without the other”, he says fixing his eyes upon Jons face, and Jon felt a little chill down the back of his spine.

Jon did not know what to say to that. He knew Bran was right, but there was nothing for it. The dire wolves choosing one another to mate with had nothing to do with Arya and his own feelings towards one another. Or had it?

“The wolves are like us Jon. They are drawn to those who we would choose to mate with, even without us knowing it consciously; our subconscious tells them a lot. And then there is warging of course” he says. As if reading Jons mind.

Jon studies his younger brothers’ face for a while before sighing and saying “since when did you get so smart?” a ghost of a smile stopping on his face.

“I could not walk remember, I had a lot of time on my hands so I took up reading. _A lot_.” He laughs, and Jon joins in.

“Robb still resents me, he hardly speaks to me anymore” Jon says. Looking ahead to the empty space his dire wolf had left only moments ago.

“No he is talking to you, just not as much as you would like him too, brother, it will take time, but perhaps you will not have to wait too long”, he says smiling. Getting up he brushes a few of the red leaves that had fallen on them from his cloak.

“Soon summer will come to an end, and a _true_ winter will once again reclaim these lands. From the northern skies to the northern grounds, both earth and sky shall meet; white upon white. These lands and the lands beyond will all be covered with Snow towering the great heights of castles. Their reign will be strong, stories will be written of the great winter, and songs will be sung of the deepest snow. Then winter will once again leave taking her snow from these northern plains, and we shall all stand and watch, waiting for the promise of spring. New life will grow, and nourish and so much time shall pass, that it would seem like an eternity has passed until winter returns. But together they will return”, Bran says but not looking at Jon, but the heart tree itself. Though Jon cannot help but wonder, what it was that his little brother was seeing. His face must have been in a frown for when Bran looked at him he smiled, and gave Jon a cheeky grin.

“Come on, the maids need to sort the chairs out” he says, and Jon gest up, but sees no maids come. They laugh and chat amicably with one another while they head back towards the castle. Jon sees in the distance maids and guards heading towards the gods tree.

As they made the clearing it was Rickon who met them. “Uncle Baratheon is here along with Gendry and the Lannisters. He is already swaggering and swearing. It’s so funny because Robb looks like he may deck Robert, though Myrcella is trying her best to calm him, with the help of Gendry.” he laughs, and the three of them grin to themselves, before quickening there pace.

When they arrived, Gendry, Myrcella and Robb were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Robb had taken Gendry another way into the Gods wood. For it would not be long now.

“Ahh Jon Targaryean, we had heard you may make a royal appearance, and here you are” it was lord Tywin who spoke and stared at Jon with blue steely eyes that held only resentment for him. But Jon was not concerned. Though he did feel everyone’s gaze upon him.

“Lord Tywin Lannister it is good to see you. Tell me how your good wife is doing?” he asks almost as coolly. For the life of him Jon did not know why Arya was so fond of Tywin. Actually no one knew. Not even his own children. Lord Tywin was nothing but a cruel and calculating man, who held no regard for anyone except for his own blood, and of course Arya. Much to the bitter dismay of his own daughter Cersei who was married to Robert.

“Unfortunately my wife could not make it, Tyrions’ wife is expecting her third child any day now and she has stayed to do what ladies do,” he says as if bored already with their conversation. “Now if you will excuse me I am off to see the bride, oh and while I am gone, Cersei try to control your husband I will not have him or _anyone_ ruining the girl’s wedding” he says, placing his eyes upon Jon again, and ignoring the wittering ons of the people he left behind.

“Jamie, Brienne good to see you both” Jon said politely as Robert was still huffing and puffing about having to walk to the gods wood. Though Jon did manage to catch bits of his noise.

“They should carry me. Wife if you were as strong as the beast that Jamie married you could have carried me. For heaven’s sake woman I was a King! A King of Westeros, until the bloody Targaryean bastard came and de-throned me. Bloody Targaryeans’, and their dragons!” Robert Baratheon bellowed.

“Ohhhhhh do shut up Robert! Joffery stop holding onto my dress the wolves will not eat you. For goodness sake you are a Lannister a lion!” she said.

Jon could hear the screams and shouts of young Joffery “no, no, I am not! I am a stag mother a stag!” Jamie and Jon both laughed as their eyes met.

“And that is what we have had to listen to all the way from casterly rock. By the way father is very pissed off that you are here. In fact he has been fuming all the way” he says with a glint in his eyes.

“Jamie!” came Briennes voice as she elbowed her husband. “Well he is, I am not going to lie to our king, dear wife, and surely you do not expect me to lie do you?” he asks.

“I expect you not to say anything” she says rolling her eyes.

“Wench, we have been married for two years now, you seriously know this little of me” he says whilst putting a hand on his heart as if wounded.

Brienne shakes her head. “Ignore him your grace, like he said we have had to listen to quite a lot on the way here and my dear husband is cranky from lack of sleep” she says bowing her head.

“Among a lack of other things” he grins sheepishly! “Oumnf” he says as Brienne elbows him again in the chest whilst going bright red. Jon smirks looking at the ground. The whole realm knew of the love that Jamie bore for his wife. And the way they mated put most animals to shame. They made a strange couple but the love was there. There was no denying that.

As Jon and Brienne exchanged pleasantries, he noted Bran whispering something in Jamie’s ear, both smirking.

“Come on dear wife, your grace, forgive us but I wish to steal my wife for a bit of sightseeing” he says with a glint in his green eyes.

“But I was going to see Arya before….” But Brienne was cut off.

“And intrude on my father’s time with his beloved Arya. He will have your head my love, and I much prefer your head on your shoulders, with the rest of your body. Come on. Winterfell is truly a delightful place” he says taking Briennes’ arm and walking her away from the god’s wood.

“What had you said to him?” Jon asks Bran

“Nothing. Just happened to mention if they would like to take a walk before the wedding. Told them how quiet and secluded the old tower was, and it was hardly ever used”, Bran says grinning.

Jon and Bran both burst into laughter as more and more guests arrived and looked at them strangely. Some bowing their heads, whilst others looked on rudely. As Jon entered the great hall once again his heart became heavy. Today would be the last day he would ever grace the halls of Winterfell. He felt another piece of his heart break away from him.

He looked through the crowded hall for a quiet place to sit alone until Myrcella caught his eye, gesturing to him to follow her. He had not spoken to Myrcella properly since Robb had stopped speaking to him. He felt uncomfortable, knowing that if Robb caught Myrcella going against him, he may take slight, not that he would ever hurt her.

They sat in a corner of the great hall, watching people busily decorating the hall for the arriving guests after the wedding.

“How are you Jon?” Myrcella asks, whilst looking at Jon. Taking in his demeanour, and his slight shuffle to the side showing her he was uncomfortable.

“I am very well Myrcella. How are you? Where is Robb?” he asks.

“He is just finishing getting ready. It will not be long now”? A pause and Jon can feel her wanting to say more, but she was wondering whether or not too.

Resigning he says “What is the matter good sister, speak freely”.

“He misses you. It is strange for him to be this distant from you Jon. He has wanted to reach out to you for some time, and believe me he has tried, but he just cannot bring himself to do it. I know because I am his wife, and though he tries to hide it, he is hurting, just as you and Arya are”, she says and Jon looks at her. Her eyes held nothing but kindness in them.

“I cannot undo the past, Myrcella, believe me I wish I could. If I knew I would cause Arya so much pain I would never have…..” but he was cut off.

“Tell me Jon, which part of the past would you spare Arya from? The part where you both realised that you love one another? Or perhaps you would spare Arya the grief of losing her baby? _Your_ baby Jon?”

“The Maester said the babe inside her could kill her in the birthing bed, Myrcella, she had fallen in the lake, almost drowned, and that the contractions had started too early. You know this. She was barely five months…..”

“It was still her choice Jon. You took that choice from her. You know and I know how strong and determined Arya is, you should have had faith in her….”

“I would not forsake Arya for a child, be it my blood, I cannot lose her….”

“But you are going to lose her Jon. After today you will have lost her forever”, Myrcella says gently. Placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I am not trying to hurt you Jon. Far from it good brother. I just want you to have some inclination that she is hurting just as much as you. The past cannot be undone, try as much as we like Jon, not even you possess that power. But to punish yourselves for making a decision, where is the just in that?” she says.

“Then what would you have me do Myrcella? I had failed to keep her and our unborn baby safe. After that day, I made a vow to myself and to Arya, that I would not hurt her anymore then I had. I would not be the reason for her pain, and I will not go back on that vow”, he says.

Myrcella smiles at him and stands up. “I am not asking you to go back on your vow good brother. I am reminding you to keep it”, and before Jon could reply she walked away. Leaving Jon to think of his own thoughts and what his vow truly meant.


	3. Chapter 3

Lord Tywin made his way up the stairs until he finally reached Aryas chambers. It was deathly quiet and for a moment he feared the girl had done something rash. He knocked on the door once only being able to wait a few seconds before he opened the doors. His heart broke a little as he watched her sitting on the floor, not moving, yet the stains of tears clearly marked her face. He rushed to her at once, holding her up gently by her shoulders then walking her to her bed. Gently he sat her there, and stared at her for a moment.

“Girl” he spoke softly, trying to level his own voice. Looking upon her face he saw an Arya that was broken. His little Arya was broken and he had no way to fix her. So he did the only thing he could do. He sat and held her hand in the quiet. He stayed like that till she was ready. Lord Tywin was nothing if not patient.

Arya could feel the warmth of a wrinkled hand in hers, and her eyes turned to the man sitting beside her.

“Lord Tywin you came,” she speaks trying to level her own voice. She knew he had no care for weakness, nor allowed any of his children to show it, especially not in his presence, and though Arya was not his child, he had treated her better than his own.

“Of course I came, girl, what did you expect?” he says, slightly irritated at her for thinking otherwise. When she does not reply but looks down to her hands he wanted nothing more than to shake her. He was not a man to show affection, and some would believe he was incapable of any, and he much preferred it that way. But Arya Stark…. she was different. He had taken her under his wing.

An idea thought by Ned Stark that his rebellious daughter should learn discipline and fear from one of the most feared men in Westeros. Instead Tywin knew as soon as he saw her that she would not bend to the will of man. She was as wild and unpredictable as nature itself, and the only reason she lashed out was because her own father and mother failed to see her and accept her for what she truly was. A wild princess, who was as cold and as deadly as the northern terrain. So instead of disciplining her on how royalty should behave and putting the fear of god in her, he helped her enhance her wildness, as well as to control it.

He would spend days on end watching from afar undergoing her training. He brought skilled masters from Braavos and the free cities to teach her languages, and sword dancing that she had never even heard of. She was like a breadth of fresh air. As wild as her dire wolf by her side. She possessed a beauty that had not gone unnoticed by his own banner men much to Tywins’ disdain. She was not there to be ogled by perverse men. For four years she trained and spoke with Tywin, they laughed and shared jokes, and even his wife was impressed with her. The results were magnificent and they had made good progress, until Ned Stark caught whiff of what Tywin was actually doing and sent for his daughter back. Tywin was ready at hand to fight for the girl to stay, until Jenna reminded him that she was not the daughter they had lost….and so he let her go back to the cold North.

Then another year on and he received a raven from the city of Bravos. Arya had sent it him, thanking him for all the lessons and that she had not forgotten him or Jenna. It had filled Tywins heart with pride, to know at least Ned Stark allowed his child some freedom to explore the world beyond Westeros; for Westeros itself was not enough to contain her.

The knock on the door broke his thoughts and for a moment he was angry and ready to give the person behind the door a good talking to.

“Enter” he said more authorativly.

“My Lord, Lady Sansa has sent me to let Arya know that they are now ready for her, and are waiting in the Gods wood, and her brother Robb is waiting downstairs” she says.

“Yes, we will be there in a few minutes. Arya is still not ready, so they will all have to just wait. Surely Gendry is not that eager to marry the girl? Off you go” he dismisses the maid, and waits for the door to close.

“Girl, come on now, we have to get you ready, and why are you wearing that confound thing on your head?” he asks gently, but slightly irritated.

Arya smiles a little and looks at him. “Because Sansa says my hair is unlady like” she smiles.

“Unlady like? I have never heard such a thing. As soon as this wedding is through I give you _my_ permission to take it off. And these tears? Why the seven hells have you been crying? I have not spent four years of my life making you weak, because the boy you love deeply is too blind and too stupid to realise it. And I have certainly not come all this way for you to stand in front of everyone looking as if you are going to a funeral. Snap out of it Arya” he says getting up.

Arya looks up at him then. She watches his cool blue eyes stare at her, as if she were the prey. But he got it wrong. She was not the prey. Wolves were not prey, not even to lions! Just like that she recalled her training from the faceless men, and schooled her face so quickly that even Tywin looked nervous.

“They are all waiting for you Arya. It is always a father’s job to give advice on such matters after a marriage, I did with Cersei, though that all fell on to deaf ears. I am not your father but I have grown very fond of you. Both Jenna and I have, you could have been…. _should_ have been our daughter, but she passed in the womb”, Tywin broke away from her a moment then cleared his throat to look back at her. “Never forget who you are Arya Stark and never let this world defeat you so easily” and with that he kisses her forehead and walks out of her chambers before Arya has a chance to say anything.

Arya takes a look once more at the mirror and finally recognises the person staring back at her. She was Arya Stark, of house Stark. The northern princess. The true Queen of winter. From somewhere afar a wolf howled, and Arya smiled. _It is time to come home Nymeria_ , she thought, knowing that the wolf knew.

Making her way out of her chambers and down the stairs she was greeted by her oldest brother Robb.

Robb watched as his little sister made her way down silently towards him. Her face a mask, and her head held high. The colour of the gown suited her well, though it was not the colours she would have readily worn. He knew that. As she came closer, a whiff of the little girl he knew that would run around these halls with a play sword in her hands came to mind, and he wanted nothing more than to turn the hands of time, and take them both back to that world. Where Arya would laugh and play, without a single care.

Arya noted that Robb was all dressed in his finest as he put an arm out for her to hold on to, and together they walked out into the summer breeze. Robb wore the Stark colours, with a dire wolf on his cloak.

“You look beautiful Arya, I wish mother and father could see you now”, he says looking at his little sister.

Robb glances sideways at Arya, trying to take in her calm demeanour. There was no hint of uncertainty across her face, which worried him. She was always good at hiding her emotions, but today – today she was to get married – for himself he could not comprehend how she could remain so calm. Was she planning to run? Robb looked around trying to see any hint of wolves running through the gods’ woods.

“Do not worry brother; I do not plan to run. I am a wolf, and I will not run; I will face my fate. You need not worry about me brother”, she says calmly. And Robb stops abruptly causing Arya to stop, as he turns and looks at her.

“What Robb? I am truly alright. And I promise you I will not run”, she says more softly.

“I know sister, but it is not that why I stare. I stare because I now really wish mother and father could see you. They would be so proud of you Arya. You have spoken like a true Stark; a wolf” he smiles reaching out for her, and she lets him hold her in his arms. Her brother’s embrace was warm and strong, and she drew comfort in his embrace.

When she had returned to winterfell, after losing both her unborn baby and Jon; she was broken. The nightmares had followed her from kings landing all the way to the remote northern castle which she called home.

Not even the grey walls could bring her comfort, and try as hard as they did, none of her siblings could break her out of her own misery. For days and weeks she would wake up screaming, clawing at her clothes screaming for Jon to not let her drown. Her dreams had made Nymeria hostile to everyone, so much so that Nymeria had to be held back by the other dire wolves, until Robb and Bran managed to chain her up, for the safety of every one.

Robb recalled the nights he was kept awake between Arya’s screams, and Nymerias’ howls. After the second month had passed with still no change he had, had enough. Robb went to make his way to her room, when he happened upon Bran.

“Do you hear that brother?” he asked but not looking at him.

“Wolves howling, what of it?” Robb said, he was too tired and angry to play this game with Bran.

“There is at least two hundred wolves out there, circling the castle, trying to get in.” he said calmly and for a moment Robb did not know whether Bran was serious or not.

“Two hundred? Impossible.” He says.

“Nothing is impossible. Two hundred wolves are circling the castle right now trying to find a way to get inside” he repeats, and Robb begins to say something, when a long mournful howl breaks the silence of the night, followed by a chorus of howls, all from the outside of the castle. A cold chill ran down his spine as he watched Grey wind, Summer, Lady, Shaggy dog, all pace restlessly around their feet.

He was just about to say something again when Bran answered his question before he could even speak it. “They have come to answer their leaders call, they have come to free her from the chains of man” and another cold shiver ran down his spine.

“You know what it is that you must do Robb. _Free her……._ ” Bran spoke finally looking at Robb, the whites of his eyes grey, as they bore in to Robb’s. He woke up with a jolt in the darkness, sweat pouring from his face. Looking over to Myrcella who lay undisturbed he quietly and quickly got dressed fastening his sword in his hilt.

He burst in to Arya’s room, and shook her awake, dragging her out of her bed, and taking her down to the training yard. She was shocked and bewildered but she had hardly put up a fight. The night air was warm and silent, but Arya stood before him with just a shirt and breeches that she had slept in, and was shivering. He could hear Nymeria growl in the distance and looked at her. But it was Grey wind who he sensed by his side.

“She will not like what I am about to do, so if she breaks free, which she may, I am going to need you to stop her, but you’re not to hurt her. Understand boy?” he whispered in Grey winds’ ear, and Grey wind stalked towards her, keeping his distance. From the corners of the castle he saw Summer, Shaggy dog, and Lady follow Grey wind. He looked up from the training yard to see the rest of Starks had come out too. Sansa, Bran and Rickon all stood and watched. They knew.

 _“In the wild you are only as strong as your pack. If a member of your pack is weak, then you all are weak. The strong kill the weak in order to survive, that is the way of the pack…..never forget this son…….”_ his father’s voice rang harshly in his ears.

Taking a deep sigh, Robb pulled out his sword, whilst Arya stood and watched her grey eyes as big as the moon, realising what was to come. Her lips quivered and a tear rolled down her eye, and Robb looked at the pitiful creature that stood before him. Was this truly his sister? Was this truly Arya Stark of winterfell or an imposter sent back from kings landing to mock them?

Blood began to boil inside him. He could feel his veins begin to throb, as he heard Nymeria growl, and snap her jaws. The other wolves circled her, and snapped their jaws back but not approaching near enough for her to catch them. Robb circled Arya as she stood still shaking. With a mighty shot he charged towards her from the side, and pushed her hard to the ground. He tossed the sword aside wondering how long it would take her to get up and fight.

She fell in the cold muddy dirt; face first, as Nymeria growled louder, her chains rattling against the gate.

“Stand up and fight! You are a Stark of Winterfell; a wolf. Stand up and fight!” he commanded but Arya laid there still sobbing in the ground. Robb picked her up by her arm, shaking her whilst he did to stand her up, then punched her hard in the stomach and she fell to her knees crouching down on the floor, her one hand holding the earth as if to balance her.. She looked up at him, and he saw the pitiful stare, and his stomach turned. Her eyes asking why? But then the next blow came right across the face, and she fell again on the hard floor.

“We are wolves’ sister, and you have become weak. You are no good to us. Stand up and fight!” he shouts.

He saw Arya trying to crawl to the sword but she was to slow, holding her leg up he dragged her back to the centre of the yard and kicked her again.

“Please brother, please…” Robb kneeled down next to her, grabbing her by the hair, and pulled her up, punching her again in the stomach.

Each time she fell he picked her back up only to kick her back down. The rain that had started as a soft drizzle began to pound hard on to their flash. As if the old gods too were beating down on Arya; she was weak, and had no right on the earth.

Nymeria thrashed her body furiously at the gate and pushed her body from side to side. As she tried to get free, her growls drowned out the heavy rain, and Robb knew just by glancing at her that Nymerias chains will not hold long, and nor will the wolves. He picked up his blade ready for the final blow.

“You are pathetic Arya, just pathetic. So what if Jon does not love you anymore, who gives a flying fuck? Just look at you. Pathetic. You are not fit to be with him, or any man. You are not even fit to call yourself a Stark. I am glad you lost that baby, seven hells even that baby was probably glad it was not born to a mother so weak as yourself”, and the blade came crashing down, only to hit the earth.

A loud crack came from the far corner, and Robb could see Nymeria was free and fighting off her brothers and sister. She threw shaggy dog into the air as if was nothing...before turning on the rest of the dire wolves. Before Robb could think what had happened, Arya was right behind him, and knocked him hard onto the floor, taking his sword, and pointing it at his neck, in one swift movement.

He watched Arya’s face completely transform, not a single bruise across her face.

“Pathetic? Far from it. As for my unborn child? You speak of him again in an ill manner, and I will kill you brother, very slowly, I swear it”, she says. Her grey eyes as cold as death.

Robb felt the tip of the sword, stab his neck slightly, and then it was lifted off, and Robb was smiling and so was Arya.

“Nymeria enough” Arya shouted as she gave her hand to her brother, to help him up.

“Good to have you back sister” he says, embracing her hard, and hears the rest of his siblings run to them and embrace them both. As they slowly pulled away, Arya had noticed blood coming out of Robb’s mouth.

“Robb you’re bleeding?” she asks a look of concern, and bewilderment. And the rest of the children looked at him showing the same concern.

Robb grinned sheepishly, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Every time I hit you, I bit my tongue as hard as I could Arya” he replies, and sees Arya’s eyes well up.

“Oh seven hells Arya not this again. If you start crying again, I am seriously going to have to kill you” he laughs, as he wraps one arm around her neck.

“Oh yeah? You and whose army stupid?” and they all laughed and embraced one another in the dark of the night. The rain still beating down on their bodies, as the wolves stood in a circle and howled to the black of the night.

No one had any way of knowing but at that exact moment a lone white wolf, stood gazing at a blackened sky, hearing the call of his litter mates. Winter is coming and he needed to be with his mate…….

As Arya drew closer to the god’s wood she could feel the knots in her stomach tightening. A part of her wanted to run and turn back, but she could not. She would not. A wolf did not run nor was it afraid. It fought.

“Are you ok?” came Robb’s gentle voice as they walked towards the heart tree.

“Yes” was all she replied keeping her eyes on the great heart tree that stood in front. She could sense Jon was near, but she did not look at him, nor for him, she would not do that.

“You do not have to go through with this you know? It is not too late to turn back and run” Rob said smiling hut his eyes telling her he was serious.

“And where would you have me run brother?” Arya asked, as they slowly made their way to the gods wood.

“Beyond the wall? back to the free cities? Wherever you want Arya?” he said.

“And what of the royal orders?” Arya replied.

“Fuck the orders, and fuck the prince....”he said with more anger laced in his voice.

“Been there and done that” she laughs and he stares at her for a moment and then begins to laugh too. Arya could now make out the clearing to the gods wood, and see people sitting in their chairs. She looks at Robb, and he steps in front of her holding her hands.

“You really are going to go through with this aren’t you?” he asks.

“Yes brother i am. A wolf does not run from its fate, and nor shall I” she says, her face a calm, which slightly unnerved him.

“After everything that he has put you through, you still trust him to think he has found the right match for you? You trust him more them me?” Robb asks, and Arya heard the hurt in which he felt.

“No brother. But I do trust him more than I trust myself. You may have spared me from my downward spiral, but Jon was the one who taught me the true worth of a life. What it is to truly love someone that you would happily destroy every ounce of yourself in the love you receive from them” she says placing her hand to his cheek.

He holds her hand and kisses it gently. “A winter without snow is no true winter Arya” he speaks.

“Do not worry about me brother, come I believe my husband to be is waiting”, she says and now it was her who was leading him.

Jon knew she had arrived without turning around. He could sense her, smell her. Something inside him awakened. He could feel his skin begin to come alive the nearer she drew. The remaining part of his heart beated faster and faster as if it understood that his reason for being was coming to an end. Jon sat next to his cousin Bran, Sansa and Rickon. He knew they all knew and understood the love her bore for Arya, yet they all had their duty.

He looked towards Gendry, standing nervously next to his friend hot pie, and for a moment he closed his eyes and imagined himself standing there waiting for Arya. Another piece of his heart broke as he realised it was foolish to even think such things now. For their time had passed.

He watched her as she made her way to the front holding onto Robb’s arm without even glancing at him. Another piece of his heart broke away.

Coolly she took her place beside Gendry and smiled at him, then at Robb, and Robb sat down next to his wife and the twins.

As Gendry stood before the heart tree and began to speak his vows, Jon felt his heart heavy with a sorrow that was becoming harder to bare. Soft gentle snowflakes began to fall as children squealed in delight, causing Gendry to stop in mid speech. Looking around, then back at Arya he began, but children became far too distracted by the falling snow.

Arya listened to Gendry speak from his heart of how much he would care for her and never let any pain near her, that he would protect her, and a tear rolled down her eye, just as the first snowflake from the skies began to fall. She watched and saw Gendry falter through his vows becoming distracted by the falling snow that was now settling themselves onto her bare shoulders. She felt each snowflake kiss her bare skin as if draping itself like a cloak.

Jon could feel Gendry’s vows coming to a close, knowing that the only part left was for the cloak to be put upon her shoulders. This he could not witness. Quietly he stood up, getting questioning looks from Sansa, Robb Rickon Mrycella the Baratheons’, Lannisters and the Reeds. But he ignored them. Bran was the only one who had not concerned himself with looking at him. As he began to walk away he felt the last piece of his heart break away from him, leaving nothing but an empty hole…..

Arya sensed him moving away from her, as the snow began to fall heavier. The further he went the more the snow began to fall. As Gendry finished he reached towards Arya to place his cloak upon her shoulders but Arya put her hand forward.

A low growl came from afar as Nymeria stood in front of Jon, stopping him form moving, Ghost at her side, and a hundred other wolves surrounding the nearby woods.

“Forgive me Gendry for I _cannot_ and _will not_ marry you. I cannot lie to myself and to everyone here, but more importantly I cannot lie to you Gendry and say that I am in love with you, or that I even want to marry you. You are my friend and I would never hurt or think of deceiving you in such a way”. She heard Jon move and instantly her eyes went to him. “As for you Jon Snow….”

Jon could feel her eyes on the back of him, as well as everyone else’s. He was trapped. The wolves would not let him go any further. _Even Ghost had turned against him._

Great big snowflakes began to fall all around them but neither Arya nor Jon was concerned. Jon closed his eyes for a second then reopened them, turning around to look back at her. And for a moment the world before him was beautiful.

“Well this is rich. A dragon running from a wolf” Jon shifted uneasily from one foot to another. She was right. Silence passed them, as the snow fell gently around them.

“How could you? How could you even think of leaving me Jon Snow? There is no winter without snow, and there is no snow without winter so don’t you dare leave me again. Don’t you dare Jon Snow. I love you, and I do not care who knows or what anyone thinks. You are the reason for my being, without you I am nothing. I am incomplete. I love you, and I know you love me……”, and before she could say another thing, Jon snow was running to her, crashing down against her and kissing her.

Their lips met hungrily, arms entangled around each other as the snow fell faster and harder around them as if trying to shield their love from prying eyes. People began to make their way back to the castle, some swore some happy, but Jon and Arya did not care. Finally they were one again. Just as they should have been.

It was only the Starks, the Reeds and Lord Tywin, Jamie and Brienne left in the god’s wood to bare witness to Jon and Arya breaking away from their kiss, and Jon placing his cloak full of snow onto Aryas shoulders.

Bran chuckled to himself. ‘ _A lone wolf running to the call of his mate’_ he thought. The visions seldom lied.

Wolves howled to the snowy skies as they all made their way back to the castle for the rest of the festivities………..

 

                                    _Winter finally complete with her Snow!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well there you have it! my first ever completed work!lol! hope you all enjoyed it soory for those of you waiting on my other fics, but now that i have completed this i can go back to giving them my attentions. sorry this one i had in my head for a while!hope you enjoyed it! plz feel free to leave kudos, comments plus consrtuctive feedback plz! :)thankyou!


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